


roundabout religious

by icycactus



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Romance, almost everyone is a grad student, hilda is our lord and savior, other characters to come, pure wholesome goodness, raphael is ignatz’ half-brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29783085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icycactus/pseuds/icycactus
Summary: The adventures of sculpture graduate student Ignatz ft. his sidekick Bernadetta, pain-in-the-ass Hilda, and personal goddess Marianne.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 11
Kudos: 11





	1. bernie tells a joke

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic! May this silliness cleanse your pores, if only for five minutes. Ignatz has the most romantic S-support in the game, hands down - and Marianne’s is so humble and sweet. These two are destined for each other in any universe. Marianne is a divinity school student, which is delightfully fun to write.

Ignatz was rarely late for his classes, but when he was, he had usually overslept like a hibernating bear. 

The trouble was, he couldn’t jog across campus whilst clutching several marble slabs. Beads of sweat populated his forehead as he gently lay the blocks on a concrete bench ten minutes away from the sculpture studios and not-so-gently dropped to the ground, panting. Ignatz resigned himself to receiving Professor Manuela’s patented death glare and massaged his sore hands. 

As a first-year graduate student, Ignatz hadn’t acquired the perks of faculty parking available to the second-years, who had their hands full teaching classes in addition to producing artwork. He heaved the marble blocks off the bench and plodded on, quietly stewing under the laser intensity of the morning sun. 

“Nice of you to join us, Monsieur Victor.” Manuela’s voice dripped with sickly sweet sarcasm. Ignatz ducked his head and wove between his classmates to his workbench in the studio next door, sighing in relief as he placed the slabs atop the slowly growing stack of marble. 

“You’re up next for critique,” Bernadetta muttered as Ignatz shuffled his way back into the classroom. “Manuela’s hungover again.” She wrung her hands and Ignatz straightened his back.

By the time Manuela finished insulting everyone’s progress sketches, it was 1 pm. Ignatz trailed after Bernadetta into the studio and flopped onto his seat, releasing a gusty sigh. “One of these days she won’t go drinking on Sunday nights, right?” he groaned.

Bernadetta patted his shoulder before collapsing in her own seat, which squeaked in protest. “That sounds like a terminal case of wishful thinking.”

Ignatz blinked. “Did you...just make a joke?”

She blanched. “No of course not! I mean - yes I did! Oh my god, you don’t have terminal anything, right?!”

Ignatz grinned. “I knew there was a funny bone in there somewhere, Bernie.”

She chucked an eraser at him. “You’re buying me lunch. From the sushi place.” Bernie hesitated. “Please?”

Fifteen minutes later, they were squeezed together at a grubby table outside the university food court. “Have you decided what kinds of plants you’re going to use for your installation?” Ignatz asked, snapping his chopsticks apart. 

Bernie gazed up at the outdoor umbrella of their table as though it held the key to the universe. “I thought it would be interesting using carnivorous plants to represent freedom, but Manuela hasn’t been keen on my idea from the start.”

Ignatz tapped the tip of his nose. “What if...what if it was more complicated than that? If you could represent different kinds of freedom, or how free for one person is different for another?”

Bernie’s eyes grew round and she scrabbled in her bag for her sketchbook, nearly upending her baked salmon roll on the table. Ignatz popped a piece of sushi in his mouth like a satisfied cat. 

He had never anticipated that he would be spending his late twenties in art school instead of running the family business. After their high school graduation party had simmered down to just the family, Ignatz’s half-brother Raphael shot up from the couch, elbowing a water glass off the side table, and boomed, “I have an announcement to make!”

He had looked pointedly at Ignatz while he told everyone he’d been accepted into the Marines, which he’d dreamed of since he was a young boy. Raphael’s voice, already too loud for comfort, thundered as he commanded Ignatz to tell their parents exactly what he wanted to study in university. 

Cowed into submission, Ignatz had mumbled, “Um, my AP art teacher told me my portfolio is strong enough to, uh, maybe study in university, and maybe show in galleries, and I just remembered I have to water my cactus, gotta dash!”

His parents compromised with a double major in business and studio arts, and Ignatz couldn’t have been happier. When he finished university he spent a few years balancing budgets for their taxi firm, exhibiting artwork locally and making new pieces in a steady stream all the while. 

Ignatz dreamed of living solely on proceeds from his art, but his family’s stability came first, always. 

“Ignatz? Are you there? Did you just go to the moon?” Bernie poked his shoulder. 

“No! Sorry! I would never go to the moon without you.”

Bernie’s smile unfurled like a Venus fly trap opening, and Ignatz kicked his heels in delight. This was going to be a good semester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Critiques welcome!


	2. hilda mvp

Ignatz was chalking a finalized sketch onto his first marble slab when the studio door burst open, knocking over the broom propped up in the corner. “Hi, Hilda,” he said without raising his head. 

“Iggy! It’s so good to see you!” Hilda simpered. He winced, wishing (not for the first time) that his parents had chosen a more modern first name. 

“Who did you charm into doing your work this time?” Ignatz asked absently, smudging a wayward streak of black chalk off the marble with his thumb. 

“First of all, rude! I spend hours in the studio every day just like you do.” Hilda’s shadow loomed over his wooden bench as she reached over to twist his ear. “Secondly, Bernie is _collaborating_ with me on my next piece. It’s going to be an embroidered armband! Isn’t that cute?”

He rubbed his ear as he straightened, but any riposte he might have offered died on his lips. Hilda wasn’t alone. 

“Oh! Let me introduce you. Marianne, this is Ignatz, he’s terribly sentimental and the best sculptor in the art department. Iggy, Marianne’s the darling of the divinity school. Now go make cute babies or whatever it is wholesome people do together.” Hilda flapped her wrists at them and bounded over to Bernie’s workbench, rifling through the drawers. 

Ignatz buried his flaming face in his hands as Marianne burst into giggles. His fleeting glimpse of her captured large brown eyes, braided hair and a heart-shaped face. He cleared his throat and said, “My condolences to you. Being friends with Hilda brings nothing but grief.”

“Hey! I’m right here, you know!”

“I couldn’t possibly forget,” Ignatz said drily. Marianne was giggling so hard her coffee threatened to spill on the floor. “Are you...okay?”

She nodded, shoulders shaking, and produced a napkin from her leather satchel. “You’ve got something on your face.”

He examined his black-streaked fingers with mounting horror. Visits from Hilda usually weren’t _this_ cursed. 

Ignatz took the proffered napkin, bowed to Marianne like a 12th-century knight, and zipped towards the bathroom at top speed, Hilda’s cackles echoing behind him. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket but he ignored it until every last bit of chalk had been washed clean. Unlocking his phone, he prepared for the worst. 

**Hilda:** SHE’S STILL LAUGHING ahdhdkeie you broke her iggy whatta man

Ignatz groaned and thumped his head against the wall. 

**Ignatz:** You are the devil incarnate

 **Hilda:** but she’s totally your type isn’t she?? you’re gonna hang out with us for lunch right???

He sighed. Hilda had uncanny matchmaking abilities - he should have expected to become her target sooner or later. 

**Ignatz:** I can’t today. Manuela’s expecting a handful of rough carvings by the end of the week

 **Hilda:** boooooo

 **Hilda:** okayyyyy but you’re not off the hook mister

 **Hilda:** i WILL be attending your wedding by the end of the year!!

Ignatz gazed mournfully at his washed-out reflection in the speckled mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Critiques welcome~


	3. confident!marianne ft. cookie abuse

In the end, Hilda didn’t have the chance to run interference again. Ignatz and Bernie were seated on the edge of a fountain in one of the university gardens, bickering over who got the last shortbread cookie, when a quiet voice to his right said, “Ignatz?”

He yelped and nearly fumbled the cookie into the water. Squinting into the late afternoon sun, he found Marianne looking at him with her head cocked like a bird. “Whoa! Yes, uh, Marianne. It’s good to see you again.” Bernie prized the cookie out of his grasp with a triumphant noise. 

“I’m glad you got all the chalk off your face,” she said. On anyone else her expression would be a smirk, but Marianne seemed incapable of malice. Her loose blouse and slacks fluttered in the breeze. 

“An occupational hazard, I’m afraid.” He shifted, all too aware of his own practical t-shirt and jeans dusted with powdered stone. 

“What kind of artwork are you making?”

Ignatz darted a glance at Bernie, alarm bells ringing in his head. He couldn’t very well tell a divinity school student that his piece was a scathing critique of the Christian church, right?

“Oh, it’s nothing special. I’m still figuring it out. I just know it’ll be made of marble.” Ignatz flashed a self-deprecating smile and shoved the empty cookie wrapper into his pocket. 

“Like old Greco-Roman statues? Or Renaissance sculptures?” Marianne’s gaze was a little too knowing. She leaned to one side, adjusting the strap of her satchel. 

To his amazement (and mortification), the ever-anxious Bernie piped up, “He’s carving Greek pagan gods into a composition similar to the ones used by churches during the Crusades to critique the pitfalls of organized religion, especially Christianity.”

Ignatz wanted to shrivel up and die on the spot, but Marianne didn’t even blink. In fact, he could have sworn her face lit up, but that might have just been the sun behind her. “That’s so interesting! What inspired you to pursue that idea?”

His mouth popped open like a soda can. “You’re not offended?”

“Not at all! I wrote a paper in undergrad comparing the levels of religious tolerance under Christian and Muslim rule.” She grimaced. “Christianity has an ugly track record.”

Marianne laughed at the look on his face. “I didn’t even grow up Christian,” she continued, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s important to know religious history, but as Mdiv students we’re ultimately invested in learning from holy texts and practices in a way that applies to today’s world.”

“That’s...genuinely amazing.” Ignatz trailed his fingers in the fountain. “It sounds like you could teach me a thing or two.”

“I could, if you like.” He heard the smile in her voice before he looked up. “Why don’t you give me your phone number?”

Bernie’s gaze was boring a hole in face, sharp and heavy as a masonry chisel. Wiping his wet hand on his shirt, he cradled Marianne’s phone and entered his number, wondering if this was what the prophets of old felt during a revelation. 

“Great! I’ll text you soon. See you around.” Marianne waved and walked away, framed by the giant ferns of the garden. The moment she disappeared, Bernie pounced.

“Who is she? Why didn’t you tell me about her? I mean - not that you need to tell me about all your friends! I’m not one of those jealous weirdos!” She squeaked and bowed her head over her knees. 

Ignatz bumped her shoulder with his own. “Relax, I know you’re not. I met her when Hilda flounced into the studio a few weeks ago. How’s that collaboration going, by the way?”

“Oh no you don’t! You’re not gonna distract me! She’s so pretty, isn’t she? How does she do her hair like that?” Still bent over, Bernie clasped her hands over her heart like a lovelorn saint. Ignatz suppressed a laugh even as he felt his own cheeks heat up.

“It’s one of life’s great mysteries, Bernie. Just like your newfound courage in speaking to strangers,” he teased. The nearby ferns rustled in the wind as if chuckling in agreement. 

Bernie shot upright, nearly knocking his teeth out. “She - she seemed nice, okay?! Like she wouldn’t make fun of me if I messed up.” Her face became uncharacteristically mischievous. “You should invite her to the Introverts’ Club.”

In answer, Ignatz wrenched the half-eaten cookie from her hand and flung it into the fountain.


	4. ignatz is too diligent for his own good

Marianne texted Ignatz a day later, resulting in a brief conversation about cats (his calico, her Maine Coon) between long stints of carving. Keenly aware of Manuela’s brutal but effective deadlines, his phone lived mostly undisturbed inside his workbench drawer, and extended text conversations with Marianne - or anyone else - went unrealized. 

With only half the semester left before the fall art show, the days slipped by uninterrupted like minnows in a stream. He began the long, uncompromising process of refining his roughed-out carvings. When his cramped arms and aching back could no longer tolerate physical exertion, he threw himself in front of his laptop to research plant-based paint recipes for the final phase of the project. 

“Hey Ignatz.” Bernie poked her head into the studio, looking as drawn and worn-out as he felt. “It’s nearly 10 o’clock. Let’s go home.”

He hadn’t quite reached his personal benchmark for the week, but at least Manuela had offered rare words of encouragement on his progress today. He cleaned his tools, swept the floor, and clicked the lights off.

“Do you have any plans next weekend? Besides working?” Bernie asked. Her cheeks glowed orange in the sodium lights as they trudged to their cars, too drained to walk faster. 

“Are you trying to convince me to have a healthy work-life balance?” Ignatz murmured. He would need to ice his hands tonight before he slept. 

“Yes. Let’s do a movie night,” she said, with none of her usual backtracking. The secret to experiencing an anxiety-free Bernie, Ignatz had realized, was catching her at her most exhausted. 

He jingled his keys as they approached the parking structure, the sound echoing across the empty lot. “Ask Felix if we can use his place.”

“I already did. Lin’s available too.” She caught his arm before he could walk to his car, parked on the opposite side of the structure. “You should invite Marianne.”

He offered her a wan smile. “I barely know her.”

“Just do it. She’s nice. If we don’t like it we won’t invite her again.” Bernie gave him a brief hug and stepped into her car. “Night Ignatz. Don’t wake up too early.”

He dragged himself through his evening routine, finally tumbling into bed shortly before midnight. Thumbing his phone on, he encountered a handful of texts, including a series of messages in the Introverts’ Club group chat. 

**Linhardt:** 6 pm next sat

**Lindhardt:** ignatz dont be late

**Felix:** my movie pick

**Bernadetta:** can Ignatz bring a new introvert

**Felix:** who

**Bernadetta:** Marianne from divinity school

**Lindhardt:** shes quiet she can come

He managed to send a thumbs-up before falling into a dreamless sleep. He also managed to forget to message Marianne until he saw Hilda on Friday afternoon. 

“Yoohoo! How’s it going, Iggy?” Hilda swept into the studio with the air of movie star, her pink curls perfectly coiffed. He set down his rasp and removed his respirator, thankful for an excuse to take a break. 

“Looking for Bernie? I think she’s at the vending machine getting her daily sugar fix.” Ignatz shuffled over to the sink, dampened a paper towel and began wiping marble dust from his face. 

“Actually, I was looking for you. Marianne is delivering a sermon next week.” Hilda pinched his cheek, heedless of the mess. “Now you have time to order her a dozen roses before you attend. You’re welcome!”

Ignatz dropped the paper towel and lunged for his workbench, yanking the drawer open. “Crap, I didn’t invite her!” He dug frantically through his tools, searching for his phone.

Hilda’s face had sprouted googly eyes. “Invite her to what?”

“Movie night tomorrow.” He tapped out a quick message. 

**Ignatz:** Hey! I’m sorry this is such late notice, but some of my friends are having a movie night tomorrow at 6 pm. Would you like to come?

Hilda stood over his shoulder and clucked her tongue. “That’s *so* unromantic! I suppose I should be impressed you got her number though. How’d you do it?”

Ignatz chewed on his lip. “She spotted me on campus one day and we chatted for a bit.”

“Did she ask for your number or did you ask for hers?” Hilda’s eyebrows wiggled like eels. Ignatz was saved from answering by the ping of a new message.

**Marianne:** Sure! What should I bring?

“Breath mints,” Hilda suggested. Ignatz stepped on her foot and ignored the resulting tirade about sullying her Coach sneakers. 

**Ignatz:** Oh, you don’t have to bring anything

**Marianne:** I want to though! What’s your favorite snack?

“Oooh she’s so bold! Where’s the shy little Marianne I knew growing up?” Hilda pretended to wipe a tear away. 

Ignatz looked up. “What’s her favorite snack?”

Hilda plucked the rasp from his workbench and twirled it expertly. “Hmm, clean my workspace tonight.”

“Deal. What is it?”

She threw back her head and laughed. “Milk bread from 85C.”

**Ignatz:** Bring some snickerdoodles :)

He snatched the rasp from Hilda and snapped on his respirator. He’d have to work overtime if he wanted to leave early tomorrow to drive to the bakery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Critiqueeeees


	5. lindhardt best boye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is sponsored by insomnia

By the time Ignatz had picked up the pastries, showered, and fretted over his outfit, it was already 6:30 pm. He’d sent a text begging for forgiveness in the group chat, which elicited a predictably poor response. 

**Felix:** you should be begging for your life

**Lindhardt:** there goes my beauty sleep

**Bernadetta:** drive safe Ignatz!! Not that you don’t drive safe already!!!

Luckily Marianne had informed him that she was also running quite late. Ignatz was both relieved and worried to discover she hadn’t arrived when he knocked on the door at 6:45 pm, balancing the box of pastries in one hand. 

Felix answered. “You’re late.”

“Sorry. I don’t have a good excuse,” Ignatz said, peeling his shoes off at the entryway. 

“That depends on what’s in the box.” Felix marched back to the darkened living room, where the queued movie preview was playing on the wall-to-wall projector screen. His long dark hair swayed in its usual sleek ponytail.

“I bought you a pork sung bun and a spicy sausage.” Ignatz slid the box onto the coffee table, already loaded with snacks, and Felix nodded his approval. “Hi Lin.”

“‘lo,” yawned Lin from the folds of the plush black sectional. Dressed in dark sweats, he was barely visible but for his pale face lying on the armrest. “Bernie’s destroying the kitchen.”

“I - I am not! Oh, how do you turn on the oven again, Felix?!” 

“I’ve shown you a million times,” Felix grumbled without heat. He padded to kitchen just as a knock sounded on the front door. “Ignatz.”

“Yep! I’m on it!” He straightened his collar, slapped his cheeks, and tripped his way to the door, ignoring Lindhart’s snigger as he fumbled with the lock. 

“Oh! Hi Ignatz,” Marianne said. For a moment he was rendered speechless - she was even prettier than he remembered in her simple cardigan and skirt. The slam of the oven door brought him down to earth with a jolt. 

“Hi! Uh, welcome. You can take your shoes off inside.” Ignatz stepped back and fidgeted as she toed off her flats, clutching a tupperware box with both hands. He led her to the living room.

“I’m sorry I’m so late. The first batch of snickerdoodles burned, so I had to start over.” 

He froze. “You made them from scratch? Oh jeez. I - that wasn’t what I meant! I’m sorry.”

She grinned at him and set the box down on the coffee table. “Don’t worry. I wanted to.” Dazzled, Ignatz busied himself with organizing the snacks from sweet to savory. 

“Hello Marianne. You look well,” mumbled Lin. She jumped, looking for the source of the voice. “Over here.”

She squinted towards the couch. “Is that...Lindhardt? From bio?”

He stretched his arms, then curled into himself even more. “Yep. Notes buddy.”

Marianne laughed softly. “We’ve talked more tonight than we did that whole semester.” She paused, looking like she wanted to say more, but Felix and Bernie trailed into the room. 

“Marianne, this is my best friend Bernadetta. Um...I guess you guys have already met.” Ignatz’s stomach flipped at the thought of the fountain incident. “We’re in Felix’s apartment. He’s too honest for his own good, so tread carefully.”

Felix nodded briefly and moved towards the couch, collecting the remote from the coffee table as he went. Bernie awkwardly extended her hand for a handshake. 

“It’s good to meet you! Or meet you again! I was paying attention the first time, I promise!” Her fingers trembled. 

Ignatz watched in wonder as Marianne’s face softened, her posture relaxed, and she took Bernie’s hand in both of hers. “I know you were. It’s lovely to meet you again too, Bernadetta.”

“...just Bernie is fine.” The corners of her mouth rose in a nervous but genuine smile. Ignatz felt an overwhelming rush of emotions - pride and happiness for Bernie, respect and warmth for Marianne. 

Lin chose that moment to tug on the back of Ignatz’s shirt, and he collapsed onto the couch in an ungainly pile of limbs. Felix snorted and patted the seat next to him, looking at Bernie. Marianne perched herself to Ignatz’s right. 

Felix often chose movies with gratuitous live-action sword fighting, but tonight he’d selected the animated _Kubo and the Two Strings_. Ignatz had a sneaking suspicion Bernie had flooded Felix’s phone with pleading emojis until he caved to her movie request. He settled back against the couch, trying to focus on the stop motion whirlwind of origami on the screen instead of the warmth of Marianne’s knee pressed against his. 

Bernie’s phone emitted the opening notes of a Panic! At The Disco song just as Kubo witnessed the festival lights flicker into darkness. “Oh! The pizza’s done.” 

Felix paused the movie as he headed to the kitchen. Marianne leaned closer to Ignatz and his heart thumped like a old-fashioned stereo. “Are those swords on the wall real?”

He grinned despite his nerves. “Yep! Felix’s family owns a modern-day blacksmithing business. His dad has been working with Hollywood for decades, so sometimes we watch films with swords that Felix made.” He reveled in the way Marianne’s jaw dropped.

“Those are the worst movie nights,” Lin muttered. “He won’t shut up about how they’re abusing his beautiful craftsmanship.”

Marianne’s expression flickered rapidly. “Are you an artist too, Lindhardt?”

“Meh. Only in the laboratory.”

“He did draw a cartoon of Ignatz strangling Felix once,” Bernie mused aloud.

“Should have been the other way around.” Felix trudged back into the room, carrying two trays of pizza. Bernie dumped most of the snacks in a pile next to the table while Ignatz silently mourned the destruction of his sweet to savory spectrum.

“How do you all know each other?” asked Marianne.

“Felix, Bernie and I were in a metalworking class as undergrads. Linhardt and I know each other from community college,” answered Ignatz. He distributed paper plates for everyone. “Lin was too lazy to make new friends, so he asked me to start the Introverts’ Club a few years ago.”

“I’m stuck hosting these idiots every time they want to hang out.” Felix’s bangs hung over his eyes as he lifted a slice of pizza onto his plate, but his brooding appearance was marred by a faint grin. “At least they bring food.”

“You don’t eat enough,” Bernie murmured as she rolled up her pizza.

Felix huffed. “You’re one to talk. Didn’t you faint once from not eating for a whole day at the studio?”

“That - that was one time! I forgot to eat! You know how easy it is when you’re working!”

Ignatz turned to Marianne as Bernie and Felix squabbled. “You and Lin had a class together?”

Marianne swallowed her bite of pizza. “We were in an upper-division biology course in undergrad. We always shared notes but never once spoke.”

“Perfect penmanship, clear and cohesive notes, no excessive chatter.” Lin had finally hauled himself into a seated position. “I couldn’t pass up the perfect study partner but didn’t bother to make friends. No offense, Marianne.”

She smiled down at her lap, but Ignatz thought her brow looked pinched. “It’s okay.”

“You sure?” Ignatz found himself saying. “It’s not hard to hurt Lin, you know. Even plastic forks scare him.”

“Felix can make any object look threatening,” grumbled Lin. “He has the eyes of a murderer.”

Wordlessly, Felix folded his paper plate to a point and held it loosely, gazing at Lindhardt with his head tilted. Bernie snatched the plate from Felix as Lin crossed himself. Ignatz felt rather than heard Marianne’s mirth. 

Bernie collected everyone else’s empty plates and bumbled her way to the kitchen. “Can I try one of your cookies?” asked Ignatz.

“Of course.” Marianne seemed to notice the 85C box for the first time. “Oh! That’s my favorite bakery. Can I have one?”

“Yes, they’re for everyone. Just leave the savory pastries for Felix, he’s a carnivore.” Ignatz had tucked two milk buns into the box along with an assortment of other sweets, hoping his selection seemed random. 

She smiled at him as she settled back against the couch to nibble on her pastry. Ignatz bit into the snickerdoodle and found it chewy and perfectly spiced. He grinned and gave Marianne a thumbs-up with a mouthful of cookie. 

Bernie returned to the living room and they resumed the movie. Ignatz felt himself relaxing fully for the first time in weeks and made a mental note to buy Bernie lunch as thanks for wheedling him away from his workbench. 

They lingered after the end credits to chat about their recent studies (and Felix’s work). Ignatz was gratified to find that Marianne fit seamlessly with the group, asking the right questions and sharing a little about herself in turn. He learned that she had originally wanted to attend medical school, but found herself disillusioned with the way some doctors handled their patients when she interned at the hospital. 

“I didn’t meet many doctors who communicated difficult news with grace,” she explained in her gentle voice. “But the hospital chaplains always seemed to know what to say - or what not to say - and I decided to follow in their footsteps.” Bernie had propped her chin on her knees, watching Marianne with shining eyes. Even Lin looked more alert than usual. 

Ignatz was only a little surprised when Felix gruffly shook her hand goodnight as they lingered by the door. He wasn’t sure she could have made a more perfect first impression.

“Thanks so much for inviting me,” Marianne said. He’d walked her to her car, wanting a moment to speak with her alone. 

“Thanks for coming! I hope you enjoyed yourself. We don’t get together often since we’re so busy with school, but I think we’d all love to have you join us again next time.” Ignatz hesitated. “Unless Linhardt makes you uncomfortable?”

“I had a crush on him in undergrad.” Ignatz’s eyes bulged and Marianne giggled. “It’s long gone, but I had a lot less self-confidence then, and it was hard to feel...valued and rejected at the same time, I guess.”

Ignatz blinked. “That’s a perfect description of the way Lin treats most people. Wow. I gotta write that down.” Her answering grin made him feel like he was floating.

He left her in her car with a promise to text more often. When he checked his phone later that night, he saw Marianne had sent him a sleeping emoji. 

**Ignatz:** Hey guys

**Ignatz:** Did you ever realize that Lin always values and rejects people at same time

**Bernadetta:** O_o

**Felix:** did Marianne say that

**Ignatz:** Yep

**Felix:** keep her

**Linhardt:** shes too smart hold me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *carnival hawker noises* criTiqUes wElCoMe hErE
> 
> also marianne burned the cookies because she was distracted by hilda sending her a stream of truly terrible flirting advice

**Author's Note:**

> *does the chicken dance* we like some critiques up in this house


End file.
